


Want

by katling



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:56:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4405436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katling/pseuds/katling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Fenhawke week - Fenris wants and needs and one day he will have what he wants and needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Want

He wants. It’s a foreign concept… or rather it’s not a foreign concept to _want_ but more the idea that he could _have_ what he wants. And he could. He could walk into Hawke’s home, into his lap, his bed, his _whatever_ and he knows that Hawke would welcome him with open arms. It had been his decision to leave three years ago and Hawke had let him go, had respected his decision and never once put pressure on him. That is as foreign a feeling as _wanting_ and knowing he could _have_ what he wanted.

He’s almost walked into that mansion a hundred times since the night he left. He’s stood outside the door in the middle of the night, his conflicting emotions tugging him in all directions until a patrolling guard would send him scurrying back to his own dilapidated home. 

He _wants_ but he can’t bring himself to _have_ just yet. 

Then he’s standing in the taproom of the Hanged Man, spitting his hate at Danarius even as he’s shivering with the fear that facing his master will end as it has in his nightmares, with the collar and the chain and the endless despair of being a slave once again to this vile, hateful man. 

But it doesn’t. 

Hawke stands at his side and shouts defiant words at Danarius, declaring Fenris’ freedom to everyone. Varric and Isabella emerge from their usual haunts in the tavern, twin daggers and Bianca at the ready. Aveline flanks him on the other side to Hawke, her glare enough to tear strips off anyone in her way. Even Anders and Merrill step forward, Justice flaring deep in Ander’s eyes and the elven mage looking like the clan First she had once been.

The fight is vicious in such tight quarters, the denizens of the tavern sent scurrying by the magic and blades in their midst, far beyond the usual ruckus seen in the place. The fight is vicious and it ends when Fenris slams his fist into Danarius’ chest and crushes his former master’s heart where it lives. The brutal irony of his mode of death echoes in Danarius’ eyes before they go dark and blank. 

Fenris nearly gives Varania the same treatment but Hawke stops him with quiet words. He doesn’t believe the words but Hawke… well, he trusts Hawke’s judgement over his own so he lets her live and retreats back to his manor. He has his victory, his freedom, his broken chains but he doesn’t know what to do, what to feel.

But when Hawke arrives, hesitant and quiet in a way that seems entirely wrong on the man, Fenris knows what he wants. He wants Hawke. He wants Hawke’s touch, his lips, his hands. He _wants_ and as he stares at Hawke, something in him, something that had been holding him back all this time, crumbles into nothing and he lunges forward, pressing himself against the mage and pressing his lips against Hawke’s in a clumsy desperate kiss.

Hawke goes still for a moment, a moment long enough to let despair try and dig its fingers into Fenris’ heart, then he groans into Fenris’ mouth and they’re clutching at each other, stumbling backwards to the ratty bed where Fenris has spent too many lonely nights. Their clothes seem to melt away and Fenris lets himself be consumed by his _want_ and his _need_ and by _Hawke’s_ want and need.

He wakes in the night, unsure as to why. Tonight he isn’t cold, he doesn’t feel lonely. He has a great bear of a man, a mage of all things, curled up behind him, holding him so gently, nuzzling into the back of his neck.

“F’nris?” Hawke mumbles, barely awake but aware that Fenris has woken. “…y’r ‘kay?”

Fenris turns in Hawke’s embrace and curls into his lover. “I am fine,” he murmurs, a languid contentment he has never felt before settling into his limbs. “Go to sleep.”

Hawke mumbles again and buries his face in Fenris’ hair. A smile curves the elf’s lips before he can stop it and he lets sleep claim him again. For tonight there is peace in his heart and in his mind and he sleeps without dreaming.


End file.
